[Supernatural]: Remembering
Title: Remembering
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: From comment_fic: SPN, author's choice, remember me when I am gone away
Summary: Remember me like this.
Notes: Set S6 at some point. Spoilers up to - we'll say 6.14 to be safe.
It was the kind of spring day that painters recorded for posterity, that could be called ‘ideal.’ The sun was bright and high in the sky, the clouds thin and wispy where they existed at all. The metal of the car was warm where his back rested against it, and the beer was cold.
And Sam, leaning back against the fence with his head tilted back, looking up at the sky, bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. Real Sam, not quite smiling, but with his face expressive and familiar as a reflection.
It was a good day.
And then Sam’s head dropped down and he said, “Dean?” and it was that voice, the one that meant a Talk was coming that his brother knew he wouldn’t like, and was going ahead and barreling straight for it anyway.
“I’m good, thanks.”
Sam scoffed. “Nice try, but no dice, okay? I just want to ask you something.”
“The answer’s no. Moving on now?”
“For something.” Sam lifted the bottle, played with it, and lowered it back down. A nervous gesture that made Dean’s own gut respond, jumping with anxiety. “Relax, okay?”
“When you say that I’m guaranteed not to.”
“I just wanted to ask-” Sam huffed out, faintly exasperated. “Remember me like this, okay?”
Dean blinked. “Sam,” he started to say, low and not quite angry. Sam was shaking his head.
“Don’t…just don’t. We know the wall’s going to go eventually, and when it does - however things end up, I don’t want that to be what you remember. I want…like this. Out of Hell, post apocalypse, with my soul and my brother.”
“There’s not going to be any remembering,” Dean said tightly, “Because you’re not going anywhere. Remember the last angelic guarantee we had? ‘The apocalypse will happen the way we want it to.’ Look how that turned out. Maybe they’ll be just as wrong-”
“It’s not just the angels, Dean,” Sam said, so quietly it cut through everything. “Everyone else, too. Even me. Even you when it comes right down to it. Don’t think I don’t know, and I don’t…it’s okay.”
Dean’s fists clenched. “It’s not in the least okay.” He hated the way Sam sounded. Hated the peace and slightly sorrow tinged resignation. He didn’t want acceptance. They were Winchesters. They’d fight all the way down.
“Better than it could be.” Sam smiled, a sad and weak little thing, but still a smile. “By a long shot, I’d say. So just…whatever happens? This is the me I want you to remember. Not whatever happens when the wall comes down. Just days like this. That’d be nice. Can you do that?”
“No,” said Dean again. “I can’t. Because you’re going to be fine and we’re going to have plenty of days like this. Don’t you think we deserve that?”
“Maybe,” Sam said, “But since when do people get what they deserve? Least of all us.” There was no argument for that. Bobby. Jo, Ellen. As far as Dean was concerned, Sam, though he was pretty sure his stupid little brother would probably disagree with that one. Sam took another breath. “I’m just saying…whatever happens, happens. And I want you to be okay.”
“I’ll be okay,” Dean said, and heard Sam relax and breathe out. He barreled on. “I’ll be okay. As long as you are.”
“Dean.”
“I mean it. Haven’t we worked out by now that solo doesn’t work?” Dean crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, glared his best. “We’ll get through this.”
“And if we don’t?” Sam demanded. Always his what if, what if, what if questions. Dean sighed, and let his eyes fall half closed.
“Fine,” he said, “Fine. If we don’t, if things go bad, I’ll remember you like this. Promise.”
Sam’s face relaxed, and the tension went out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said, softly, and had a gulp of his beer. Dean looked up at the sky. The wisps of clouds were moving quickly, blown in some atmospheric wind. Passing by.
I’ll remember you like this, Sam. Right up until I find the best way to follow you out.
They would be okay. Yeah, sure. They would be okay.
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: From comment_fic: SPN, author's choice, remember me when I am gone away
Summary: Remember me like this.
Notes: Set S6 at some point. Spoilers up to - we'll say 6.14 to be safe.
It was the kind of spring day that painters recorded for posterity, that could be called ‘ideal.’ The sun was bright and high in the sky, the clouds thin and wispy where they existed at all. The metal of the car was warm where his back rested against it, and the beer was cold.
And Sam, leaning back against the fence with his head tilted back, looking up at the sky, bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. Real Sam, not quite smiling, but with his face expressive and familiar as a reflection.
It was a good day.
And then Sam’s head dropped down and he said, “Dean?” and it was that voice, the one that meant a Talk was coming that his brother knew he wouldn’t like, and was going ahead and barreling straight for it anyway.
“I’m good, thanks.”
Sam scoffed. “Nice try, but no dice, okay? I just want to ask you something.”
“The answer’s no. Moving on now?”
“For something.” Sam lifted the bottle, played with it, and lowered it back down. A nervous gesture that made Dean’s own gut respond, jumping with anxiety. “Relax, okay?”
“When you say that I’m guaranteed not to.”
“I just wanted to ask-” Sam huffed out, faintly exasperated. “Remember me like this, okay?”
Dean blinked. “Sam,” he started to say, low and not quite angry. Sam was shaking his head.
“Don’t…just don’t. We know the wall’s going to go eventually, and when it does - however things end up, I don’t want that to be what you remember. I want…like this. Out of Hell, post apocalypse, with my soul and my brother.”
“There’s not going to be any remembering,” Dean said tightly, “Because you’re not going anywhere. Remember the last angelic guarantee we had? ‘The apocalypse will happen the way we want it to.’ Look how that turned out. Maybe they’ll be just as wrong-”
“It’s not just the angels, Dean,” Sam said, so quietly it cut through everything. “Everyone else, too. Even me. Even you when it comes right down to it. Don’t think I don’t know, and I don’t…it’s okay.”
Dean’s fists clenched. “It’s not in the least okay.” He hated the way Sam sounded. Hated the peace and slightly sorrow tinged resignation. He didn’t want acceptance. They were Winchesters. They’d fight all the way down.
“Better than it could be.” Sam smiled, a sad and weak little thing, but still a smile. “By a long shot, I’d say. So just…whatever happens? This is the me I want you to remember. Not whatever happens when the wall comes down. Just days like this. That’d be nice. Can you do that?”
“No,” said Dean again. “I can’t. Because you’re going to be fine and we’re going to have plenty of days like this. Don’t you think we deserve that?”
“Maybe,” Sam said, “But since when do people get what they deserve? Least of all us.” There was no argument for that. Bobby. Jo, Ellen. As far as Dean was concerned, Sam, though he was pretty sure his stupid little brother would probably disagree with that one. Sam took another breath. “I’m just saying…whatever happens, happens. And I want you to be okay.”
“I’ll be okay,” Dean said, and heard Sam relax and breathe out. He barreled on. “I’ll be okay. As long as you are.”
“Dean.”
“I mean it. Haven’t we worked out by now that solo doesn’t work?” Dean crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, glared his best. “We’ll get through this.”
“And if we don’t?” Sam demanded. Always his what if, what if, what if questions. Dean sighed, and let his eyes fall half closed.
“Fine,” he said, “Fine. If we don’t, if things go bad, I’ll remember you like this. Promise.”
Sam’s face relaxed, and the tension went out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said, softly, and had a gulp of his beer. Dean looked up at the sky. The wisps of clouds were moving quickly, blown in some atmospheric wind. Passing by.
I’ll remember you like this, Sam. Right up until I find the best way to follow you out.
They would be okay. Yeah, sure. They would be okay.